Secret Worlds
I look at those secret worlds you call eyes
Just watch me burn
High, high into the night
Jaskier remembered Roach on his way down the mountain.
Roach, the loyal companion of the witcher, was a strong soul indeed. Always there, despite the happenings of bards and witchers and child surprises. Roach was a constant. And if not this Roach, maybe another Roach.
Surely there had been more than three Roaches in the time Jaskier knew Geralt. Maybe there had been more that Jaskier was not privy to know of(there was a lot that he didn't know, he learned later).
But he knew one thing. He walked next to the witcher. Never rode. He wasn't allowed on Roach. (Unless dire circumstances were called for. It had been once, and he was injured due to the witcher's lack of insight.) Buying his own horse was something he did once, but the witcher had growled about how loud and annoying his mare had been, she did nothing for the witcher's stealth and overall look.
(Later, upon greeting Eskel and getting to know other witchers, he was comfortable to say that Geralt alone made him chase after his horse. Others would either offer their horse to Jaskier or pull him behind if they were in a rush. But more often than not, the other witchers would simply get off their horse to keep pace with the bard on foot. It was something that Gealt rarely did, as he was always in a rush to get somewhere.)
(Eskel never rushed him.)
He walked down the mountain.
There were moments that Jaskier had wondered if the journey up the mountain could have been better dealt with if they had avoided the shortcut. He wondered if lives would have been lost anway.
That was not a complete thought and Jaskier allowed himself to acknowledge it.
He met up with Roach at the base of the mountain. There was a stable and farmhouse belonging to some younger couple who had moved north from Novigrad.
Roach met him with the same fond nosing search for treats that she did when she always first saw him after an adventure. This was not the first Roach, he knew. But this was the current Roach. And this was his Roach. She knew to look through his doublet for snacks that he always hid away. (It was a habit that he had picked up with the first Roach that he had met. She was always indifferent to him, unlike this new one. Jaskier learned to bribe her with half eaten apples and carrot sticks saved from the kitchen of whatever inn they were staying at.)
She found a half eaten apple from his trek up the mountain.
Jaskier allowed himself time to relish the moment that he had with this being that simply allowed him to be. This soul that only wanted treats and affection. This was a moment allowed to Jaskier by himself to just simply exist in his heartache. He knew he was wrong. But he knew he was being unfair. He had seen things that were placed in points of his life to make his story more grand. Or maybe those points were to help others.
Again, more unfinished thoughts. The thoughts were running into each other and slipping in bits he didn't want to think about.
Jaskier took a step back from Roach and assessed her. She was strong, he knew, but her will was too soft. She cared for Geralt more than the last Roach had. She would put herself in harm's way for the damned witcher.
Geralt.
A smile appeared on Jaskier's face but it quickly fell. He knew a roadblock when he had come across one. Geralt's own sexuality was a roadblock worth pausing at. There was the question that Jaskier was ever even an option for Geralt like Yennefer had been.
Maybe what he had felt was adoration. Simple in the idea. He adored Geralt and what he stood for. He wished to be such a man as Geralt, one who walked and fought to make sure even a simple man could continue to farm so that witchers could continue to hunt.
Jaskier once wondered what it would be like to teach simple knights and sentrymen the works of witchers so that they would have less of a need to call for them. The idea was snuffed, like many of his others.
But Jaskier didn't have to be with Geralt to be happy. Just trailing after the man on his horse was enough for Jaskier to hear whispered words in the wind as the ideas for new tunes came to his head. He had found a muse in Geralt. The muse that brought on such splendid ideas as Toss a Coin of Her Sweet Kiss.
Over the years Jaskier had thought he understood his purpose on this land. He had found a good man in Geralt and couldn't understand why the stories of witchers were so frightening. He had wanted to change that for Geralt. For every witcher.
And after twenty years he was getting somewhere. No one truly looked at Geralt and thought of Blaviken. They looked at his white hair and piercing yellow eyes and knew he was the hero from the songs. The White Wolf.
He was no longer seen as the Butcher.
Roach's huff of breath pulled him out of his reverie and he grinned up at the horse. "I'm sorry, dearheart, I should be paying more attention to you." The horse seemed calmed by his whispers and let him continue to pet her head.
Well, if Geralt wanted to be blessed with his absence, then Jaskier would do his best to grant that wish. He tried to think of places that Geralt didn't like going, but came up with a blank. The witcher would go anywhere, really, except for a certain few towns or large cities. He wondered where the other witchers went during their travels when the idea suddenly came to him.
Other witchers.
He had never seen other witchers while traveling the path with Geralt. Maybe the best way to avoid Geralt was to be with one of the other witchers. He didn't know any of their names, except Vesemir, but he was willing to bet he could still find one on his route.
The first order of business he had was to find another witcher to follow. One that wasn't Geralt. Which meant that Jaskier would need to divert from his usual routines and paths that ensured he saw Geralt.
With a last longing look at Roach Jaskier turned away and began on his path. He had two options, now. On one hand he could travel south and west, where he will eventually come across Oxenfurt. It was a safe bet but Jaskier wasn't feeling too particularly sane at the moment, and a decision was made.
He would travel south and east, towards Ard Carraigh, getting him closer to the mountain range where he vaguely knew the Witcher Keep was. What little scraps of information that Geralt had passed on was now coming together to form an almost full picture to help Jaskier.
Ard Carraigh would be a good place to start. And south from there would be his plan. The path ahead of him looked lonely and he wondered if he was always this alone without Geralt. Getting in and out of trouble alone was fine, but getting out of trouble with a horse was better.
With the thought that Jaskier wanted to find more trouble, he turned back to the stable he left behind.
I look at those secret worlds you call eyes
Eskel was more than Jaskier could have hoped for in a witcher.
He was sweet, in the way a gruff man was when he scared those around him. Jaskier knew he was a witcher with the twin blades and the yellow eyes, but the deal was sealed when the witcher didn't protest any of the foul mouthed words that were tumbling from the barkeep's mouth.
No one paid attention to the interaction from the continued conversations through the room, but Jaskier could tell that the man, the witcher, was hyper aware of his surroundings. Eyes flicked to him with a glance before going back to the barman.
Jaskier probably fell in love then.
Outside of watching the interaction he had been eating his own meal before his performance. He wondered if it was worth it, now. The witcher took his meal at the bar and left after he learned of the contract in mind.
Jaskier slid to the barkeep with a large smile, unable to keep himself from feeling the moment.
"What, bard," the barkeep asked him. The condescending voice was not lost on Jaskier, ignored it in favor of the mysterious man he had just seen.
"That witcher," Jasker tried to begin.
"What about him?" The barkeep was sharp in his answer, cutting him off before he could inquire more. Jaskier knew a lost fight when shown.
"Did he get a room?"
Upon learning that a room had not been saved with the innkeeper(a different man from the barkeeper) Jaskier put his own coin down for the best room (available) and a bath after the witching hour. He set himself off with the smallest room for the crowd he would bring in with the music. Extra coin was paid for the late hour of the bath, but Jaskier thought it wise after learning how simple the contract actually was.
"Tell the witcher it's paid for. And no fuss, I'll be watching." The warning glare he gave meant nothing to the larger barkeep, and Jaskier knew it by the raised eyebrow he got in return. But the play made the barkeep more placid, as Jaskier knew it would. Being threatened by a poncy looking whelp helped lower the guards of most people, and if he kept himself in a light that made him seem smaller than he actually was, then all the better for his character.
True to his word, Jaskier stayed in the throngs of people well until what he considered his normal time to turn in. The town regulars had long gone but the visiting travelers were still amongst the tables chatting themselves dry. He was able to thus watch the witcher return and ask for a room. Jaskier could point to the exact moment the witcher was told that his room was paid for, if the look of shock followed with immediate suspicion was anything to go on.
Jaskier continued to strum his lute and play to the dying crowd until the witcher was gone from sight. It was then that he started his first new song in months. He had worked on it half-heartedly on his travels atop Roach's back, letting his bitterness play into the words he wrote. The jaunt seemed to liven up the remaining folk in the room and Jaskier felt himself relaxing his shoulders.
Witchers aside, there was still a place for music everywhere he looked. Here, in the crowds that only ever got retellings of songs they had grown up with, he was able to fit in. The small town on the trade route was not popular but the visiting travelers and merchants all knew of it. It forced the town to open a second, bigger inn that left the first one to cheaper travelers. But these people, the ones who tried to scrape every coin together to see their children off to Ban Ard, the down-on-their-luck merchants who were recently robbed of their goods and gold, and especially the local farmers and trade workers, these were the people Jaskier had learned to please over the years he traveled. Lost to him were the courts of counts that couldn't hold a shovel correctly and the fields of ladies who only knew to dance and giggle and play to the people around them. They had been replaced by the shouts of laborers who had come in at dusk to drink with their friends, the giggles of ladies who had just finished their shifts at their shops where they sold everyday things that Jaskier had to often buy. (Soap. He always needed more soap.)
Here, on the road, he was able to find a place for himself, though however temporary. He may not be able to help people like witchers did, but he could hope to make their hearts lighter with song and brighter with hope.
He finished The Golden One to a small applause from the crowd that was left.
When it was Jaskier's turn to return to his own room, small as it was, he was shocked to be stopped by a towering mass of light hair, wet with a recent bath, and scars running down the side of a face.
"You paid. Why." Hair fell to his eyes. Gold eyes that were staring bright.
"Well, just as eloquent as any witcher, I would expect." The answer was out of Jaskier's mouth before he had time to think on the words. He wouldn't have courted death had he known the proximity.
"You've known many other witchers?"
And now the witcher was much too close for any bard's liking. Witchers and bards in close quarters only lead to hurt bards and unknowing witchers.
"At least you've washed," was the answer Jaskier was able to manage, though his voice was a bit strained.
"Thanks to you," was the immediate response he got. The gold eyes were still imploring him for secrets, but Jaskier was distracted when the witcher licked his dry lip. Very attractive lips.
Well.
No, that was a bad idea in and of itself. He didn't mean to be attracted to this witcher. He just wanted to be inspired by this witcher.
Jaskier wondered, then and later, whether this was how a bard and witcher should have met. No mountains or dragons or sorceresses. No elves or devils or Djinns. Only growled questions and rough hands on his biceps.
Oh, there was a hand on his arm.
Jaskier had the manners to look down at the pendant hanging from the witcher's neck before smiling. "Toss a coin to your witcher?"
The witcher frowned in response while giving Jaskier a once over with his bright yellow eyes.. "I had heard," was all that Jaskier managed to hear in a mumble of words. More clearly came a better response. "You must be the bard who wrote the ditty for Geralt. We have you to thank for easier hunts."
"Please tell me you're going to have mad, fantastical sex with me, because otherwise I don't think I can continue this conversation."
The look of shock was one Jaskier would always remember, mostly because he imagined he wore the same look on his own face. There was a genuine wonder in the witcher's eyes at the statement. A disbelief that he was being offered something so suddenly and so wildly.
Jaskier understood. (Or maybe he didn't. Not quite yet.)
He was only glad that he was able to be upfront with this witcher. Unlike his own.
The previous.
The previous witcher. Not his witcher. Was never his witcher.
But 'the now' held another witcher. One with different stories and different manners. One with softer eyes, but maybe bigger arms. One who was tightening his grip on the bard's arms.
"You paid for my room and for my bath to have sex with me?"
Jaskier was sure his face was red as he spluttered to explain himself.
"Well, no– I paid for those before I decided to have sex with you. I only decided that just now. After the bath. I'm not sure if I would have been as incinded before the bath." It seemed that he couldn't stop digging the grave he had set a foot in, but the adrenaline of meeting another witcher was palpable. He had so many questions he wanted to ask but didn't want to scare him away with his annoying pestering.
The witcher watched him with narrowed eyes, arms still keeping the bard from moving.
"Your name. Please," Jaskier wheezed out. He was only out of breath due to nervousness, not truly out of fear. He had never learned of any other witches from Geralt, only that there were some to exist. "I can't keep calling you 'witcher' in my head. I'll get confused. If I ever cross another one." He tacked on the last sentence as a shield to hide himself.
"Eskel."
"Lovely to meet you, Eskel. I'm Jaskier. Now, onto what I was saying–"
"Okay."
The answer was curt, which Jaskier kind of expected, but the answer was still surprising. He had expected to be rejected or brushed off. The hands still gripping his arm had relaxed, but Jaskier felt the way the fingers flexed with every breath Jaskier drew.
"Come back to my room and sing me a song. I'm dying to hear that voice break for me."
Eskel was completely different in all the ways that mattered, but Jaskier could pick out different things that reminded him of Geralt. There were grunts, like he had expected. There was still the strength behind the warm caresses. The almost animal look he was given was familiar, but the situation it was given in was not. He was sure if that was a growl he had heard, but he wouldn't put it out of his mind quite yet.
But, really, that was the end of the similarities that Jaskier had observed in the two witchers.
There were no harsh words out of Eskel's mouth, only praise. ("You're doing so well for me, just one more." or "Wrap your arms around me, I don't want to hurt you." or even "Don't hide your voice.") Hands were warm and soft, but gave enough pressure to tell Jaskier that this was real. There were other differences. Eskel had more scars on his body, and the muscle was much leaner, but the deathly experience was still there, Jaskier knew. Eskel was of the same height as Geralt and Jaskier had a brief thought of seeing them next to each other. Maybe they were good friends, as they were from the same animal-necklace-pendant-academy. Brothers-in-arms, probably.
He wondered how many wolves were left. And if there were other animal representations. What sort of animals? Bears? Lions? Geese? All of those thoughts left his mind once Eskel had removed his shirt, but he would remember these thoughts later. Maybe.
Everything from the look of heat that was focused on him to the whispered words into his skin was new to Jaskier. Never had a lover been able to make him feel as much as the center of attention as the witcher had, but he never had a witcher as a lover. Heated words of want and need filled the air as both men scrambled towards release.
But Jaskier knew he wanted more. They were in an inn and he had oil in his bag that he bought to use with another, but this was even better than the original plan. His words were jumbling again, but all he knew was that this, now, was what he wanted. Needed.
Later, after Eskel had cleaned them both with a towel and leftover bath water, Jaskier wondered what sex with Geralt would have been like. If he would have been half as concerned for Jaskier's pleasure as Eskel had been. Or if their hands felt the same from sword calluses, or if they trained and fought differently.
The thought drove a stake through his heart, reminding him that he was maybe, probably, still heart-broken.
"Should I leave?" Jaskier mumbled into the pillow his head was buried in.
"You paid for the room, it's up to you." The voice came from a distance, but an arm was wrapped warm around his back. The warmth made Jaskier hum carefully, pulling himself up to look at the witcher.
"This is your room. I've got my own."
Jaskier woke up the next morning to a warm chest moving up and down steadily beneath his head. Warm skin and soft muscle helped him wake up. He blinked his eyes and lifted his head to look at the witcher.
"I forgot to leave last night," he mumbled into his muscled pillow, which earned a rumble of laughter from the chest under him. It bounced Jaskier's head a bit in the movement. He felt the warmth of an arm wrapped around his back, hand coming to reach just above his ribs with fingertips just a breath away from his nipple.
"I didn't see a need to make you walk back to your room after what we shared. Would that have been preferable? Plus, you fell asleep in the middle of our conversation."
Jaskier closed his eyes as he felt heat rush to his face. The placement of the other's arm still on the edge of his mind.
"Probably best, then."
Another rumble of laughter and Jaskier opened his eyes to watch the man smile. He didn't know witchers could be so openly happy, even if they were alone in a room. Jaskier had barely known Eskel for a full night and he was already able to watch the witcher laugh and smile.
His heart warred with whether to feel warm or cold. Warmth from the witcher he held, or the cold of another witcher.
"You know Geralt."
It was said as a statement. An accusation. Eskel's voice was flat, no emotion carrying over. All the previous warmth had disappeared and Jaskier wondered if witchers could adjust their body temperature to make themselves feel cold.
Jaskier's grimace was enough answer for Eskel though because his body relaxed from the slow tense Jaskier hadn't noticed. But Jaskier dragged himself up from the warm body he had been pleasantly lazing on to turn and answer. His hand was under the pillow, beneath Eskel's head, and he used that arm to pull himself on his elbow. Eskel's arm slipped down to his back but didn't move to stop touching him.
"I thought I did." Gold eyes found his own blue ones and he couldn't hold back. "He left me on a mountain after over twenty years of friendship because he fucked it up with his sorceress."
There was more. There was a whole song about it, actually. There more than one, really, but only the Golden One had been performed since his return from the mountaintop, everything else too painful still.
"Yennefer?"
The name stings through his heart, though not for the reason he had thought it would. How could a witcher know that Geralt's sorceress' name was Yennefer? Geralt had spoken of her, then. To his group. The probably-family of wolf witchers.
He pushed the thought away to focus back on Eskel.
"Yeah. We weren't supposed to take the dragon contract until she burst into the tavern saying that she would be hunting with Borsh. Geralt sort of…" he trailed off and waved the hand that wasn't holding him up on the bed above Eskel's chest. "Forgot anything else." It came back to rest on Eskel's chest lightly, just above his heart. He tried to convince himself that he could feel the witcher's heartbeat.
"Witchers don't hunt dragons."
"Geralt had said."
Eskel took a deep breath before letting out a long sigh.
"So you stole his horse."
Jaskier's eyes widened with the accusation. "How did you–No!" He thought back to the witcher's return the previous night and knew that he must have seen Roach in the stable. Which begged many questions to the forefront of Jaskier's mind. "It was the least I could do after Geralt dragged me up a mountain to hunt the dragon who was actually our tour guide. So, really, Roach is better off with me. With a sorceress at the top of the mountain I'm sure he has an easier way of getting down."
"He hates portals."
"I know."
Another long sigh and Jaskier smiled slyly in response. "I'm sure you can take her with you when you go to Kaer Morhen. Geralt would be happy to have her again."
He could already imagine Geralt's confusion at seeing Roach with Eskel this Winter. Not that he would ever be there to personally see it.
"You're awfully knowledgeable in the ways of Geralt," Eskel finally said, eyes turning away from the bard to stare blankly out into the room. Jaskier let himself fall back to the witcher's chest and get comfortable again.
"Over twenty years. I've travelled with him for over twenty years. I've been able to pick up a couple of things over the decades."
"What do you mean you travelled with him? He travels alone. Always has." Jaskier recognized the accusatory lilt in the witcher's voice. It was the same lilt his own voice gave when trying to defend Geralt. He had never heard anyone else use it, and it surprised him to know how warm that made him feel. There was someone out there other than himself that was willing to fight for Geralt.
"He'd also have you believe that he has no emotions for anything that happens, but we all know how full of crock he is." The snort he received in response was worth the pain in Jaskier's heart at the thought of Geralt.
"He's not much for words, though it has been easier for him to speak his mind these past couple of years. Was that your doing?"
"I doubt it," Jaskier responded. He traced patterns into Eskel's chest. "He never spoke of me, did he?"
The silence was an answer in itself.
His fingers began to brush through an old poem he remembered from his days at Oxenfurt, words soothing and familiar. "So I doubt he's spoken about his child surprise or the djinn?"
"I'll kill him."
"Don't blame him. He doesn't. He blames me for it all."
Jaskier was sure the pettiness in his voice was palpable. He paused his finger and craned his neck to look up again at the witcher. The look he was presented with was a mixture of concern and worry and was that pity? Not Pity. Maybe pity. What did pity look like on this witcher? He stopped those thoughts immediately by looking away and presenting a different topic while his finger began the poem anew.
"So, what are your plans 'fore Winter? Before you crawl back to that keep of yours."
Eskel, who's eyes were now closed, opened only one to stare at Jaskier. "Will you be my new bard, then?" he asked, amusement now underlying his voice. "Will you shout my praises whilst I walk through the streets bearing the head of a cockatrice?"
Jaskier felt genuine longing at the words the witcher gave him. "There is bound to be plenty to write about, if I'm to travel with you. Though, already, I'm seeing that you're the better travel companion. And now I won't even have to run to keep up with you. I've got my own horse."
The look he got from Eskel was strange, but he brushed it aside to slowly get up and stretch. "So, shall we begin our adventure?" The warm smile that was given to him in return was more than Jaskier had anticipated. But the way the witcher dragged him back down to claim his mouth in the first kiss of many that morning was something he might always remember.
And wonder if we might
"We should split ways here," Jaskier had begun, unsure of how to bring it up with this new witcher. "I know you winter in your secret mount lair with the others."
They had found their way to Ard Carraigh, which he knew from Eskel's stories as the last major city before the path up the mountain. Jaskier had spent two months with the other witcher in easy companionship. Their days were filled with stories from the path, both sides. Their nights were filled with the warmth of the other, shared blankets and heavy breaths.
Jaskier wondered if he would be lonely without Eskel, like he was whenever he parted ways with Geralt.
He didn't want to think about it.
"Then I hope to see you on the path soon, after the year's end. Come spring I'll be keeping my ear to the wind for your tune."
Jaskier's smile was wide and sudden. He had never had the words of someone who wanted to meet with him on the path. Normally others were ready to be rid of him for good.
"I'll sing as loudly as I can."
Jaskier returned west horseless but with his heart warm with the idea of Oxenfurt for the winter and Eskel for beyond that.
There's something changed
Jaskier had always met with Geralt on one of the paths that went through the Kestral mountains. He wasn't sure how he had always found Geralt, but he had chalked it up to Destiny playing her hand. Now he knew better.
It should have been obvious that Jaskier just happened to know Geralt that well. They stuck to the same three locations, rotated over the years. Each spring saw them in a familiar crowd of townsfolk, save for the few spots in between where Jaskier accidentally stumbled on him earlier. Those may have truly been Destiny's hand.
He had met back up with Eskel on his path to Ard Carraigh, but they changed routes to head down to Vengerberg, where he knew Geralt wouldn't be. There were places that Geralt avoided unconsciously on the path and Jaskier had seemed to pick up on them over the years. And he was filled with some small comfort of knowing that he wouldn't accidentally run into the witcher he was told to avoid.
"He came back this winter. He was pouting at anyone who looked at him."
"Did he ever tell anyone why?"
"No, we know to ignore him until he comes to us and asks us for help, if he needs it. Otherwise, he'll deal with it himself."
"Did you speak to him much?"
"He told me a little about the djinn."
Along the path they spoke, Eskel just as much as Jaskier. They both walked next to each other as Eskel held Scorpion's reins in one hand. He had let Jaskier pile his things atop the horses back so they could both walk comfortably and at ease.
Though all of that changed when there was danger present. Jaskier learned quickly during his first travels with Eskel that this witcher was unafraid to tell Jaskier to get on Scorpion's saddle and ride away if need be. Because of this he had learned to get along with this other horse. Scorpion was half a hand taller than Roach had been, with a darker coat to compliment. She had smart eyes, often looking around to sense danger, but seemed to forget everything when it came to Eskel's hand on her head.
Eskel often complained about Jaskier's lack of fighting but the words were said with a smile and a gloat. If Jaskier had to guess, and he always did, he would say that Eskel liked showing off for him, protecting him in every way possible. "Do you think you would come save me if someone were to kidnap me?" He eventually got around to asking one day while they walked side-by-side, Scorpion lightly trotting next to them.
"What makes you ask that?"
"I'm always the one that gets in trouble. It finds me no matter where I go."
"More like you find it," Eskel muttered, but Jaskier ignored him to continue.
"I think you get off on the idea of saving me. Or saving anyone, actually. Are you a hero, Eskel? I'm normally the damsel in distress, waiting for a knight to come sweep me off my feet. Will you save me, Eskel?"
"Jask." Eskel's voice was both a sigh of frustration and growl of something more, maybe need, Jaskier had to guess. No, he wanted it to be need. He wanted to hear what he hoped to be something more. "I don't think there's a single witcher that wouldn't want to save you."
The day's travel was cut short when Jaskier threw himself to the witcher and they found a nice patch of field to lie down in. They spent many days like this, almost as if in a dream. This was everything he had wanted with Geralt, but here, while lying with Eskel in a field of wildflowers, he could admit that Geralt wouldn't have a head for these things. This was never something they were going to share.
He wondered if Geralt was happy without him.
He didn't have to wonder long when Eskel would start speaking though, stealing all of his attention.
It seemed that knowing Geralt for as long as he did allowed Jaskier to be privy to more information about witchers from Eskel.
"I don't understand why he wouldn't have told you anything about us. We knew he left when winter ended to go meet up with someone, we just didn't know it was the same person every year."
Small bits of information came from Eskel that Jaskier would have never imagined. They were always insights into Geralt's own life that shocked him. But these insights weren't always light, like the mentioned statement. Instead, much like Jaskier's interactions with Geralt, they were sharp in a way that Jaskier wasn't sure how to feel about. They hurt him, personally, but they made Geralt happy. Geralt's teasing, if it could be called that, drove sharp stakes in his heart at every turn. Insults and barbs thrown with half of a smile as if the joke wasn't Jaskier, like he implied, but rather something that they shared. It was just that Jaskier never knew what it was they shared.
It wasn't friendship, he was reminded over and over by the man himself. He wasn't shy to tell people that Geralt was his best friend, but Geralt had always denied it when he was faced with the title. Even after twenty years he refused to acknowledge why he met Jaskier nearly every spring. Geralt had always put himself in the Bard's path but scoffed when he saw Jaskier enter the inn's tavern.
Jaskier sometimes wondered if he had not sought Geralt out in the spring the first time after their parting, would he have found another witcher? Maybe Eskel. Maybe Lambert. Maybe Coen or Aidan or any of the others that Jaskier didn't know of until after three weeks on the path with Eskel.
They shared stories beyond what Jaskier would have imagined. He had started by explaining the child-surprise in Cintra and Pavetta and Calanthe, but Eskel returned with a story of his own child-surprise, one who's story didn't end as well as anyone had hoped. Jaskier confessed small anecdotes about Oxenfurt while Eskel filled the nights by the fire with stories of Lambert's home-brewed alcohol and Aidan's awkward pining. Jaskier whispered into the night about his father and Eskel tightened his grip around him while talking about his own younger days with Geralt before the trials.
Their trek was winding and slow, but Jaskier saw no reason to complain at their speed. They had traveled south from Vengerberg then east through Lyria while they better knew each other through their shared stories of Geralt and discussions of poets of old that Eskel had once studied years before Jaskier was ever on the path.
Eskel had made plenty of coin through contracts along the path, but Jaskier wasn't without a couple coins when he played nights in the inns and taverns he and Eskel would occasionally stay at. He released Her Sweet Kiss officially in the middle of the largest crowd he could find in Vengerberg early in their travels, which he had thought was appropriate. Eskel eventually pried the entire story of Geralt and Yennefer from Jaskier, but not long after he had the mind to ask the one question that Jaskier had feared.
"Did you love him?"
"Yes."
There was no way he could lie. He had known since before he had invited Geralt to Cintra. There had been a plan to tell him then, after the banquet. That night, prepared with a back-up plan to play court bard or poet at some southern estate to some Duke or Earl of some sort, in case he had his heart broken, he worked himself up to confess to Geralt.
Eskel could fill in his own blanks.
"I knew," Jaskier whispered in the moment where he was huddled against Eskel's chest with the fire to his back. "I knew he would never–could never want me the same way. I don't know how many times I had made a pass at him by then. The last time I tried he rejected me by making a wish to a djinn to stop me from making any noise." One of his hands that had been idle found purpose by gently stroking his own throat.
He didn't elaborate further, but Eskel never pushed him to say more. He either filled it with his own stories or let the bard fall asleep to his humming.
Jaskier was elated to find out that Eskel enjoyed music and the arts as a whole. He spoke of lullabies that he had heard from other boys in the keep or bawdy tunes often sung by silly bards in bigger cities. Their discussion on literature made Jaskier rethink the intelligence of witchers. He knew that Geralt was smart when it came to solving problems and finding monsters, but Eskel showed him that philosophy and celebration was just as important.
"It's a sort of an observation through time, isn't it? Listening to music. You can hear a war rise before you see it, if you know where to put your ear to."
The comment was offhand, but Jaskier knew what Eskel meant. Though his own songs were about monsters and adventures and love, he had realized that other bards who had passed through the towns before him sang of discontent on the borders and ill will amongst the common folk. The thought left a bitter taste in his throat.
There's something weaved into our windows
Six moons had passed before they found themselves outside of Hagge. Jaskier had been counting his time carefully, wondering when the witcher would head to the keep for the winter, but tried not to think much of it. Instead he played with a tune he was sure Eskel would enjoy when he finally pieced all of it together.
They had just reached the city when news of the Fall of Cintra was whispered by the townsfolk. Jaskier worried about the child he knew to be there, maybe twelve now, and told Eskel just as much. He talked about the night they had learned of Ciri's existence, despite Jaskier's telling of it just a few months prior.
Jaskier worked to learn everything he could from those around him while he played at the bar below the inn on the first night they stayed in Hagge. Eskel had spoken of needing to speak to several other people and left Jaskier to his own ways with the crowd.
Several hours later, after at least four renditions of the Golden One and a couple different versions of Toss A Coin he rewrote to fit with the other witchers' and their stories, Eskel made his way back into the building while many others were leaving.
With a flaunt to his crowd, paired with a large bow, Jaskier ended his show and sidled up to the witcher. Eskel, understanding the bard after nearly a year of acquaintanceship, wrapped an arm around him and steered him to the stairs where they would find their room.
"I've heard disturbing things tonight," Jaskier began once the door was closed. Eskel's arm was still wrapped around him and the witcher used it to move him to the single large bed in the room. "Cintra has fallen. Calanthe is dead."
"I heard. Nilfgaard has pushed quite far from where they were last seen. Do you think Geralt…?" Eskel's question trailed off and Jaskier shrugged.
"I'm sure he's feeling the worst of it if he hasn't already gone to get her. But I have a notion in my mind that he's already with her now."
Eskel shared more information with Jaskier about the fall of Cintra, details such as dates and names Jaskier would have to learn again later. Then he mentioned the Battle of Sodden.
"They said it was a massacre that was only won when one of their sorceresses exploded on the field. She ended the fight."
Jaskier had a mind to wonder if it was the violet-eyed witch, but pushed away the thought. She wouldn't have bothered with the politics of it, if Jaskier knew her. And he thought he did. He and Geralt had met up with her plenty over the course of the seven years they all knew each other.
Later, after their physical activities left them breathless in bed together with no cloth between the two, Jaskier finally said what was on his mind.
"I need to go back to Oxenfurt."
He felt the witcher tense next to him while his arm tightened around his torso. Eskel's head was pillowed on Jaskier's chest, a mockery of their first night, almost. Jaskier's hand came up to Eskel's scarred face and held his cheek, thumb brushing over the scars reaching up the golden eyes.
"That would put you closer to the problem, if I remember my geography correctly."
"Temeria and Brugge lie between Redania and Cintra. I'm not worried about the proximity. And Novigrad is a free city, I don't see many people wanting to attack it anytime soon."
"Jaskier," Eskel whispered. "Come to Kaer Morhen with me."
How many times had he wanted to hear those words? It felt like a lifetime since Jaskier had learned that Geralt went off into the mountains almost every winter. The first winter they had known each other Geralt had stayed with him to travel through Cintra and Angren in the south where the weather was warmer.
He had hoped, for so many years over, that Geralt would have asked him those words. But even after twenty-two years of companionship they were never brought up.
But this witcher, Eskel, hadn't even known him for a year and was already asking him. How easy would it be to go north from here to Kaer Morhen? The trip was surely easier and shorter than his own trek west through the Kestral mountains and into Redania.
To stay in a keep full of witchers and learn all of their stories was a dream. To watch them interact with each other would surely have brought on several song cycles to add to his repertoire.
"Jaskier?"
"Sorry, I got lost for a moment." He took a deep breath to try and help him organize his words. "I'm sorry, Eskel. I don't think I would feel comfortable with the other witchers. Not in a place you all call your own." But they both knew that was a lie. There was only one witcher Jaskier was worried about, and it wasn't one he hadn't met.
"I don't want to make Geralt uncomfortable," was left unsaid but heard by both.
"Then let me take you there. I still have some time before I need to go north. We can go to Oxenfurt and I'll see you safely home."
And just like every time Eskel had said something in the same vein, Jaskier felt himself lighten. Geralt had never asked to see where he lived. He had once seen Geralt in a tavern just a couple streets away from where he had been teaching a masterclass for the lute, but didn't stop to say anything to the witcher when he saw the raven-haired witch he was sharing a drink with. He didn't see Geralt for another two months after that. That was one of the years Geralt hadn't make it up to the keep.
"Aren't you worried about Geralt?"
The snort of laughter that came from the witcher tickled Jaskier into giving his own chortle.
"I'm not worried about that fucker. If anything, I think the first thing I want to do is punch him."
"You can't!" Jaskier squawked, but his face was split in a large smile as he gazed fondly down at the blonde. "You have to promise to hug him first. Melitele knows he needs it."
"Alright. I'll be sure to hug him first, for you. But I'm getting my punch in there."
"Not in front of his child-surprise, you don't," Jaskier warned. "She's a child and she doesn't need to see her guardian get clobbered first thing by his own brother."
"Mm, fine," Eskel responded. His body relaxed into Jaskier as he closed his eyes. "We'll head west, then. To Oxenfurt."
"To Oxenfurt," Jaskier whispered, allowing his own eyes to close and letting himself fall into slumber where his dreams were filled with gold eyes, warm smiles, and wide-eyed owls turning their heads to always keep watch.
The leaves like broken shards of stained-glass windows
Jaskier had heard of the Saovine festival being held at Bleobheris within the Seat of Friendship at the end of the month.
"One last hurrah before I go back to the dreary crowds of Oxenfurt. Come on, I promise it will be fun. A good celebration to end on, I think."
Eskel's return smile from next to Scorpion was enough to tell Jaskier that they would be going to the festival.
"Will it be a good time to make coin for yourself?" the witcher asked. One hand held a reign while the other swung next to him, occasionally brushing against Jaskier's own hand.
"Of course not! With as many elves as there are to tell me off about the amount of cursed luck I'll have if I play my instrument before Imbolc I don't get a strum in. Elves are harder to deal with in the winter months for that reason. Who would think playing an instrument is bad luck? It only brings smiles and good things."
"Unless you're Geralt."
"Of course, unless you're Geralt. The man had the audacity to tell me my voice was like finding his pie fillingless!"
Several nights had passed since they had left Hagge after their conversation, but Jaskier revisited it many times on their trip when they were simply walking in companionable silence. It seemed that since that conversation Eskel had pushed to talk about Geralt more.
He had started with anecdotes about their time before and after the trials. From training at the Temple for their signs to bothering Vesemir and the other instructors with horribly sordid pranks. Several times he talked about Geralt at the keep during the winter, with more stories from more recent times.
One such story came on the night they were to pass north of Vizima, both having agreed that sleeping under the stars was much more preferable to the crowds of people. Jaskier couldn't complain either way, but when they were camping in the wilds they spent more time together simply existing without others. It was something Jaskier had often felt with Geralt before the banquet in Cintra that had first broken his heart. Now it was like a reprieve to be alone with someone and just happily exist.
"There was one year he brought home a flower crown, preserved by magic with a spell, that he tried to smuggle up to his room before we could catch him. We caught him, of course."
Jaskier remembered a flower crown, cornflower interwoven with buttercups, something he had paid good coin for, only to have the witcher scoff at him. He had placed it on Roach's head instead and cheered when it seemed to stay in place after a couple of trots.
"Do you remember what color it was?"
He shouldn't have asked. He wasn't sure which answer he wanted to hear.
"Yellow marigolds and violets."
He remembered watching Geralt saunter away with Roach after explaining he was going to find a stable for her. That was the last time he had seen the witcher at that festival. Or for the rest of the year.
Though that conversation ended on a stilted note, Eskel didn't give up trying. Jaskier wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but it bothered him in a way Eskel normally didn't. If Eskel wanted to bother or tease Jaskier, there were ways he knew to frustrate and embarrass the bard, but Jasier was fine with that, because it was always followed with something he could understand. Usually sex. Sometimes cuddles on rainy nights. Most of the time it was for his attention.
But these more frequent conversations about Geralt frustrated him beyond end because he couldn't understand what Eskel wanted. Why would he keep bringing up the one man Jaskier had confessed to love and have his heart broken by?
They were along a wide and worn path when they started to see more people headed in the same direction merging from smaller, newer paths. Jaskier wasn't sure when it had happened, but he was now holding Scorpion's reins and Eskel was blocking him on the other side. He was surrounded on both sides and Jaskier had never felt safer than in this moment. Never during his travels or his time in Oxenfurt did he feel as at peace than he did in this moment while walking with Eskel at his side.
This felt right.
This felt like he belonged. Like he was wanted. He let himself lean more heavily into Eskel's arm, finger's more insistent in their grazes now. He heard a small huff of laughter from his side before the witcher's hand twisted to hold his and laced their fingers together.
"Is this what you were after?"
Jaskier didn't answer with words but instead began humming a new tune. One that had nothing to do with a white wolf of any sort. Instead, these were sonnets of golden eyes in the warm setting sun. Nothing could put to words the feeling he felt now holding this witcher's hand.
The path was now wide enough for several caravans to pass each other. They had stuck closer to the edge of the path which allowed them to walk at a slower pace than the rest of the travelers.
Soon the trees gave way to the glade where the Elder Oak sat in the center. Crowds of people were milling about, many with makeshift stalls set up around the edges selling wares of all sorts.
"The actual celebration is tomorrow night."
"Excellent, I'll be able to play tonight. We'll set up somewhere to camp, probably along the edge somewhere? Closer to the woods?"
"No, as much as I hate to say it, I think we might have our best chances in the crowd." Eskel looked out at the crowd before his eyes found an appropriate spot. "If we were to be attacked, we're open to attacks from anywhere along the woods where an archer could hide," he explained. He pulled Jaskier's hand with his own to where he thought was best.
"I don't want to set up camp yet. Let's look around and see the things everyone's got for sale first."
Jaskier happily followed Eskel to where they paid a couple of boys who were watching horses under a stablemaster from a nearby town. They left Scorpion to walk hand in hand while pointing out different goods from all sorts of merchants and folks.
Jaskier found himself a couple of new notebooks, each one from a different binder, and even paid for a new doublet they found to the witcher's liking. Its layered material was tough to the pull, but the material in the dark green shade was a wonderful sight on Eskel.
The witcher returned the favor later that night when an odd necklace caught the bard's eye at the stall of a dwarven blacksmith. All the accessories laid out were eye-catching and surely worth their weight in gold, if not more, but only one had caught Jasier's eyes so strikingly.
It was gold, on a gold chain. The pendant was an odd shape, one Jaskier had never seen in a necklace before. One prong of metal was connected to the chain, but as it hung down it split in two prongs. The shape reminded him of a tool he had seen once at the academy, meant for tuning instruments. He had never used it himself but the odd sight of it at the festival made him think it over.
"How much for that one?"
Jaskier's mouth was open but he was unsure if the voice that asked the question was his own. He turned to look at the witcher who had spoken for him.
"Close our mouth, Jask."
Jaskier did as he was told and let the witcher haggle with the dwarf on the price. Once it was settled Eskel handed over the long chain.
"You have to put it on me. You bought it."
He was being petulant, he knew, but he didn't know how else to deal with this. Never before had someone bought him something when he hadn't asked. Not like this. He had received gifts such as books from Priscilla, but they were always books she wanted him to read. She was the only one that had bought him gifts, though, so maybe his comparison was skewed.
Eskel didn't bother to argue with the bard. Without a word he held the necklace chain up and placed it around Jaskier's throat.
"There. Now you'll always remember tonight." There was more that went unsaid, like many things they had shared. "Remember me," was what it sounded like to Jaskier.
"I will."
They spent that night in a crowd of mixed people. Eskel held Jaskier between his legs with Jaskier leaning back into his warm chest as they sat next to a fire with others as they shared stories of past Saovines.
Jaskier dozed off between a bad impression of a leshy and the incantation of an old dirge Jaskier had once learned in the worst bar of Posada.
He woke to Eskel's voice trying to stay low as he spoke to someone else a little distance away. The sun was bright behind Jaskier's closed eyes, forcing him to rethink their choice to stay away from the edge of the woods.
Blearily he opened his eyes to look at the man that held him in warm arms. Eskel's gold eyes looked down at him before he broke out into a smile. "Good morning, bardling."
"I'm sure it is," he threw back in response, eyes already growing heavy with the warmth that surrounded him.
Eskel's voice resumed talking, though at a regular volume now, and Jaskier realized he was discussing breakfast options with one of the other people they had stayed next to during the night. Some of the caravans had brought food to sell to others and Eskel thanked the man for the information.
With plans for breakfast in mind Eskel pulled Jaskier up and dragged him to go find the food. Hours later, after a complete breakfast of several types of cheese with some of the best bread Jaskier had ever tasted, they had dwindled down to settle and listen to a storyteller retell the Battle of Sodden from just weeks prior. They stayed just far enough away to keep an ear on the story while they whisper a conversation between themselves without disturbing anyone around them.
"It's been a while since I wasn't kicked out of a festival," Eskel confessed when they were both settled with their snacks from another merchant they had found selling honeycomb and sweet buns.
"With a riot?"
"They stopped using their pitchforks in the last couple of years."
"I wouldn't be surprised if they picked them up again with your sense of humor poisoning their ears."
"It's because of you."
Jaskier turned to look at Eskel at the statement. "What?"
"Your songs, your attitude, even, has made people more willing to give contracts to us. They don't chase us out because they have heard of a bard who sings of magical things, like elves, and witches, and witchers. And it's not all bad. I've caught a couple aldermen singing along to the tune when they don't think I can hear. We didn't know there was a bard who followed him. We just knew he crossed a bard's path once and he wrote a song for Geralt. He never told us anything more."
Jaskier pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. "He never talked about me." It wasn't posed as a question this time. Jaskier knew in his heart that Geralt had never told anyone else about their companionship. Was probably embarrassed by it.
"He didn't," the answer came anyway.
They eventually got up to walk around again to look at the new stalls that had opened in the time that they were meandering. The necklace Eskel had bought him the night before was warm against his chest, a reminder of this too real moment.
"Geralt loved horses even before the path."
They had come up to where Scorpion was grazing against the temporary fence with some other horses of different kinds. Scorpion's head lifted with the sound of Eskel's voice and they both walked to where she was.
"He was always so eager to take care of the horses returning for winter. It annoyed me because that meant I was right next to him, cleaning out horse shit for a week straight. But he loved it. Loved the conversations he could have with them, as one-sided as they were. Loved cleaning them up after the path, getting them dry and warm. It made him smile like–."
"'Skel," Jaskier cut him off. "Why are you telling me this?" He spent weeks listening to Eskel's stories of Geralt in their younger years, but those stories always included other witchers as well. Recently, though, his stories have been focused completely only on the white wolf. The flower crown came to mind.
"I just thought you might want to hear stories about him. Things you haven't heard before."
"And things I'll never be able to see for myself. Ever. Eskel. Don't you get it?"
But Eskel's face was only confused. Jaskier knew that Eskel was genuine in his reason, but it didn't make it better.
"You're telling me about a man I'll never see again. A man who never wants to see me. He's done with me. Whatever connection I had with him is gone. Broken. And there's nothing left there to salvage. Leave it. He blamed me for all the shit that's happened to him and told me that if life could give him one blessing, it would be for me to be taken from his hands. He's had twenty years to come to this conclusion. I don't want to waste any more of my time on him."
The sun was setting in the background and vaguely Jaskier could understand the poetic beauty it gave the moment. But it didn't stop the torrent of words that fell from his mouth.
"He spent every bit of energy making sure people didn't assume we were friends. He made sure to degrade me in front of those he liked. And every time he did it, I smiled at him like a fool because I was utterly in love with him and couldn't figure out why it hurt."
Eskel's face was unchanged, confusion still evident. But he eventually found words to say.
"Come back to Kaer Morhen with me."
Jaskier felt the dread that came over him every time the keep was mentioned, but it was drowned out by the anger. This man, who he was sure he was in love with, would not stop trying to push Geralt into his head at every turn of conversation.
"You know I can't."
"Why? Because Geralt doesn't want to see you? Fuck him, anyway. Kaer Morhen is safe and the continent is about to go to war, if they're not already fighting it. You're a sitting duck out here in the middle of it all. I want you safe. Kaer Morhen is safe. Come to Kaer Morhen with me."
Jaskier had often entertained the idea of it, especially since Eskel had brought it up in Hagge, but the thought of seeing Geralt anytime soon made his stomach turn and his heart sink. There was nothing there for him now. He knew that. He gained nothing from being in a one-sided friendship with Geralt. But with Eskel's constant stories he was reminded that the witchers were like brothers. He imagined spending his days in a keep of other witchers, a family of them, while they fell into an easy rhythm of work and training to keep them fit through the winter.
But he couldn't see himself fitting in anywhere. He would avoid Geralt, he knew, because this was the one time the witchers came back to the keep to relax with their family. It seemed like the worst place for Jaskier to show up and make space for himself.
A smaller part of him wondered how Eskel and Geralt acted with each other. Did Geralt smile at his brother? Did they laugh together? Eskel had said he would hug him, then punch them. Did they roughhouse in the halls after a couple of drinks? Did they fall asleep on each other's shoulders?
That smaller part wanted to know. He wanted to watch it with his own eyes.
But that small part of him was too small.
"He'll have his child-surprise. I won't want to intrude on his destiny."
Eskel looked outraged and opened his mouth to argue. He was cut off by something Jaskier was unaware of, because the next second a hand went down to his chest to where the medallion lay over his heart while his eyes searched out the crowd and treeline beyond them.
The first arrow struck an elf where she stood speaking to the same dwarven blacksmith Eskel had bought the necklace from. It was buried into her shoulder and she fell with yelp.
The next arrow was on fire.
And not alone.
Jaskier felt hands pulling him roughly and he turned to look at Eskel. The witcher's eyes were bright and worried. "We have to get out of here. Sneak out, if possible. They might just be here for the elves to round them up, but I don't want you to get caught up in this."
Eskel turned back to where Scorpion was behind the fence and jumped over to be with her. He motioned for Jaskier to do the same and the bard was finally broken from his stupor. He began moving quickly, following the witcher over the fence. Behind him he could hear screams breaking out over the entire glade. The elder oak stood tall in the center, but Jasier was unsure of how long that would still be. The fires that had been brought on by the archers were starting to spread over the makeshift market and closer to the old tree.
"Get on behind me." Eskel's hand reached out to pull Jaskier up on the saddle. His voice lowered into a grumble that reminded Jaskier too much of Geralt, "We're going to make a push for the north and see if we can't get out that way. Hold on tight."
Jaskier had just enough time to wrap his arms tightly around Eskel's stomach before they were moving. Eskel started Scorpion in an immediate run to jump over the temporary fence a bit further away. Once they were cleared of the fence Eskel pushed himself close to the horse, forcing Jaskier to move with him, and started Scorpion in a full gallop.
Jaskier watched with empty eyes as a swarm of soldiers broke the forest line from their right. A quick turn to the other side confirmed that they were being flanked on both sides. He watched as soldiers grabbed people at random to maneuver the ears into sight.
Eskel had mentioned rounding up elves. What was that about?
Raindrops began to fall and Jaskier hoped it would help put out the fires.
Shining, shining
Some time later Eskel had finally slowed Scorpion down to a pace that allowed Jaskier to hear the woods around them. He peeled himself away from the witcher's soaked back to take in their surroundings. The rain had stopped after some time and now the dark was settling in. Night noises from the forest were picking up and Jaskier was able to hear the croaks of frogs sing with the sounds of buzzing from many winged pests of all types.
The path was starting to become more proper while the woods fell away again to show far off farms and fields. The sight was a familiar one to the bard, having seen it more times than he can remember. They were on the main road to Oxenfurt.
Other people were on the path headed towards them and the festivities but Jaskier was quick to get off the horse and warn them away. Eskel joined him on the ground and the people all saw the witcher.
"Is it true?" one of them, an elf from the looks of it, asked when they were all stopped. She looked at Eskel with such sincerity that the witcher was taken aback by it.
"Uh, yes, soldiers just raided the glade, looking for elves. I would turn back."
"Thank you, master witcher!"
With a chorus of more 'thank you's' the group turned back while loudly spreading the news of what they had just learned.
"They trusted me over you," Eskel whispered in what Jaskier thought was awe.
"Well, of course. People know witchers are safe around these parts. I made sure of it." He gestured to the path they were on, then to the city that wasn't far off. "I sing tales of witchers every winter I'm here. The cities here and the people in them are more free-thinking, they understand logic when they come across it. Witchers help people. Witchers are good."
"I still don't get it."
Jaskier's face scrunched up but he opened his mouth to continue.
"Well–"
"I wish you had met me first."
The words stop Jaskier immediately. "What?" but it came out as a broken whisper even he couldn't hear.
"I wish you had met me before you met Geralt. He's the luckiest bastard I know. He's always had things thrown at his feet, but he doesn't know what a gift is if it isn't a horse. So he's used to it and he takes it for granted. He's had your blessing for twenty years and he didn't share you with us because he didn't know you were Destiny's gift to him."
Eskel's face softens into a smile that Jaskier can't help but to reach up and touch. There, just on the edge of his mouth, are some old scars that he knew still tugged painfully at the witcher's face when he smiled too much.
"If Geralt's one blessing was to be rid of you, mine is that one day you'll forget him."
Tears are falling down Jaskier's face and he isn't sure when he began to cry. Eskel's hand came up to brush them away.
"You're crying."
"These?" Jaskier asked. "These aren't tears."
"Then what is it? The rain that was too scared to fall during our escape?"
Jaskier chuckled, a broken sound, and leaned forward to push his face in the witcher's damp chest. Both of his arms came up to drape over the witcher's shoulders and Eskel hugged him to his chest.
"Come back to Kaer Morhen with me." The request was whispered into his hair and Jaskier never was more tempted in all his life to fall and say yes. He could almost imagine the trek up to the mountains next to Eskel. He let himself wonder what Geralt would do if he were to see Jaskier next to his brother. Would he care? Would he be mad? At who? Eskel or Jaskier?
"I'm going to find a purpose." Jaskier wasn't sure where the words came from, but he could feel something building under his skin and in his throat. "What happened tonight. It was disgusting. No one should be hunted and killed just for being born different from others.I need to find a way to help."
Jaskier pulled himself away from the warm but damp witcher and looked him in his eyes. Tears still obscured his vision but he couldn't care anymore. He knew he had to do something. Something that didn't involve witchers or wolves or destiny. If he didn't do something for himself he wasn't sure if he could ever face Geralt again.
If he could do this for himself, he could help Eskel with his wish. He would learn to forget the pain that Geralt made him remember.
He saw himself sitting with a group of witchers while they all drank and celebrated life in the middle of the winter. Jaskier imagined himself between two witchers, one who would tease him and the other who would protect him.
And Jaskier wanted that.
But it wasn't something he could have now.
But it was something he could work towards.
"Will I see you this spring?"
"I'll wait for you in Ban Ard."
Welcome to Ruin
